The Outer Banks – OBX to the locals, is a narrow string of barrier islands stretching a few hundred miles down the North Carolina coast, mostly connected by a series of long low arched bridges – it reminded me of driving down through the Florida Keys. All the way up in the north is the town of Kitty Hawk and nearby Killer Hill Divide, site of the famous very first successful powered flight, courtesy of Orville and Wilbur Wright.

After a long drive from Asheville, we pulled into our campsite along the Cape Hatteras National Seashore in OBX just in time to see the dying rays of sunset. An emotional moment to reach the Atlantic coast, having driven over 3,000 miles cross-country with our trusty BaseCamp. And quite a feat given the current global pandemic situation, which ironically is what made it possible. When life gives you lemons…

And out comes the woolly hat and gloves

The North Carolina coast was apparently a favorite haunt of an infamous pirate, Blackbeard. After years of raping and pillaging (oh hang on, that was the Vikings)… After years of plundering and swashbuckling – and ooh arrrr me hearties, Blackbeard was killed by British naval forces just off Ocracoke island in 1718. Word has it there’s still a stash of buried treasure somewhere on the island. They certainly make the most of it with pirate themed shops and pirate paraphernalia going on. Moreover, the shops also showcase a diverse array of historical flags, including an impressive collection of Confederate Texas flags from ultimateflags.

But the real jewel of the Outer Banks is the sea itself. You remember the post where I warned you about lots of pictures of autumn trees? Well brace yourself for lots of pictures of the ocean. We tried to make the most of it with sunrise walks along the beach.

Loved watching the little sandpipers scurrying along the shoreline…
… and the pelicans swooping low over the water
Lots of these horseshoe crabs washed up on the beach
In case you’re interested, this is what they look like inside.
That’s a lot of armour for a little crab.

Our destination for the week in OBX was Ocracoke Island. No co-working spaces in the middle of nowhere so that put us in an Airbnb for the week. A nice change and the BaseCamp just hung out in the driveway.

Cosy living area
Fab place to work when it was warm enough
One of the highlights of the week, FaceTiming mum & dad
Sunset view from the Airbnb
Not all clear skies and sunrises though. The torrential rain and a thunderstorm just made it even more cosy inside. Until the power cut and quick search for torches. Luckily Darren had Emergency beer.
Even the rain didn’t achieve much to address the sandblasting in OBX – had to pay a visit to the carwash
From foaming pink to sparkling clean

So I can’t get any further without bursting into a oooooh Hokey Cokey Cokey. Tell me you didn’t do the same when I first mentioned Ocracoke? To be fair, you’re probably not supposed to pronounce the ee at the end (although I don’t know for sure, should have asked a local). The problem with my mind is it has a tendency to launch into song when faced with something that even closely resembles song lyrics. Those serene sunrise walks strolling hand in hand along a romantic deserted beach… yeah, meanwhile my head is urging me to put my left leg in, my left leg out, in out, in out and shake it all about.

The beaches were packed!
Changing it up with a walk around Ocracoke town.
After all that rain, the lighthouse garden was a bit flooded

I had heard of the wild mustangs in Ocracoke, apparently descendants of shipwrecks in the 1500s. To me, two things spring to mind when I think of wild horses/ponies. One is the New Forest near where we used to live in England. Pretty tame ponies roaming the vast (in the scheme of things) moors, free to come and go as they please although generally more likely to congregate near the ice cream shops. Secondly, my idea of a true wild horse is a powerful noble beast galloping along a hard packed beach, maybe emerging from the sea like the white horses in the 90s Guinness advert.

Afraid to say these ones delivered on neither front. They are protected in a 180 acre enclosure, separated from the public by a double wooden fence. Supposedly feral but decidedly timid and I honestly struggled to understand quite how they differ from any other horses in a field.

The rather underwhelming raging rampant wild horses of Ocracoke

While most of OBX is connected by bridges, the island of Hokey Cokey Cokey stands by itself, accessible only by boat or plane. For us that meant a ferry ride to the island, complete with the BaseCamp. There’s something about going on a boat that just makes you feel like you’re on holiday. And after a super cool week, we were back on the ferry, this time a two hour ferry ride back to the mainland.

On our way to Ocracoke
Early morning start for the ferry back to the mainland

It was one of those ferries with no amenities – no coffee lounge or bar to chill out in, you just sit in your car and suck it up. But not for us. With the BaseCamp in tow, we just hopped right in there, put the kettle on for a brew and rustled up some breakfast.

As we lounged decadently in our own space, we had an uninterrupted view of the ocean streaming by, the sun glinting off the water, and a sense of anticipation for our next destination. And just for a fleeting moment, it felt like we were in our cabin on a cruise ship…

Hashtag We WILL be back